


Touching darkness

by Nary



Category: Diablotin
Genre: Anal Sex, Blood, Demon Sex, Demons, Floor Sex, Hallucinations, Insanity, M/M, Pain, Punishment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-02
Updated: 2010-12-02
Packaged: 2017-10-13 11:54:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/137061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nary/pseuds/Nary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You imagine this is the worst thing that could ever happen to you. I promise you - it is not."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Touching darkness

The first sign Sanadhil gets that he isn't alone is a cool breath across the back of his neck - exposed now, vulnerable, since he hacked away two feet of hair. His hands, out of his control, continue their busy tearing, shredding words and knowledge into nothingness, but he tries to look nevertheless, to see who it is. He simultaneously hopes that someone's finally found him, someone who can help him, and dreads the humiliation that will inevitably follow.

He can't see who it is. Whoever it is keeps moving, just out of his sight, a movement at the corner of his eye and then gone again. But the voice, familiar and terrible, slides into his ear like a dagger. "Lost, are you? I heard your screams from across the city - could have heard them from another plane."

 _Earric_ , he tries to whisper, and _help_ , but no sound comes from his parched throat. He tries to grasp at the words of a spell, but they're all flown now. So he lashes out with his fists instead, but meets no resistance. It's like fighting the air. San lunges, staggers, falls to the glass-strewn floor. Blood wells up in his mouth, and his hair, fine and flaxen, sticks to his face.

A touch, surprisingly gentle, traces the dry, ragged skin of his lower lip. "Shh." And San's brain, so feverish with words, goes mercifully silent for a moment. "You think this is the end," the silken voice continues. "You imagine this is the worst thing that could ever happen to you. I promise you - it is not."

The weight on his back is almost comforting at first, pinning him down, stopping his frantic movement for a little while. The shards that bite into his chest, his thighs, are a fitting punishment for his arrogance. For his error. It's only right that his skin should be flayed the way his mind has been, his flesh exposed the way his secrets will be. San doesn't struggle, even when it feels as though he's being split open, and he bites down on his arm, hard, to keep from screaming.

 _Touching darkness_ , he thinks, remembering the construct's words. _More than just touching now - it's inside me, buried deep. Maybe it always was._ And, gods help him (any gods who might still be listening), he's even hard, aching for that darkness, longing for it to fill him to overflowing until it seeps from him the way the statue's eyeless, mouthless face bleeds its venom. His heart hammers in his chest so fast he wonders if he's dying, and his hips jerk in vain, grinding him harder against the broken glass.

"Beg for my help," the voice murmurs against his ear, pausing just long enough to tongue its delicate folds, "and I can make all of this stop."

San's voice is hoarse, ill-used and dry, but he manages to croak out a single syllable: "No."

It's as though a weight is lifted from him, and for a moment (before the madness descends again) the air cooling the sweat on his back feels better than anything ever has. He knows he's alone again, if he was ever anything but… Blood and seed mingle within him, or beneath him, or both.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [In Mad Truth Anger Lies](https://archiveofourown.org/works/185958) by [Measured_Words](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Measured_Words/pseuds/Measured_Words)




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